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“He escaped.”
Her head shook, fists clenching in the fabric of her trousers, knuckles going white before she let out a heavy breath. “I was so stupid.”
Guilt washed through me then. “No,” I answered quietly. “You weren’t stupid.” I took a deep breath, my eyes falling on Belin, his arms crossed and face hard as he spoke with Summercut. “You were in love.”
She didn’t respond, and the silence settled between us. There was a lot I was angry at her for. She hadn’t fulfilled her role as a mother when I needed her most. She’d forced me to make impossible decisions to ensure our survival. She’d turned hollow and despondent and left me no space to grieve. But how could I fault her for it when she wasn’t even my real mother?
“You have a court,” she murmured suddenly.
The world began to creep back in, and I let it drown out everything else. “I suppose I do.” An involuntary laugh escaped my chest, and I saw Belin shift at the sound.
“He didn’t die,” my mother said, her tone unreadable.
I shook my head, running my tongue across my teeth and sighing. “No, he didn’t. He was the Invisible King the whole time. King Belin Cal Myrin.” My mother’s eyes flew wide. “Roped into Castemont’s plan.”
Weren’t we all?
Belin knew we were talking about him. I could tell by the way he stood — his eyes were on Summercut, but his body was turned just slightly toward us. His head suddenly whirled to me, eyes locking me in place as he approached.
My movements were not entirely graceful as I pushed myself to stand and reached down to help my mother up. Solise appeared, coaxing my mother to go with her and catch up on the years that had passed. Belin’s shadow swallowed me. I wouldn’t feel small. I wouldn’t let him affect me.
“What you did was incredible, Petra,” he said quietly, head dropped just slightly. His eyes didn’t meet mine and I was thankful for that.
I hated these conflicting feelings. Wanting him so fucking desperately but hating him for what he did. At least…Iwantedto hate him.
Larka would have smacked me in the back of the head if she could hear what I was thinking. “Get your shit together, Petra!” she would have said. “You’re going to let him make you feel this way?”
“Thank you,” I answered sternly, my shoulders back as if good posture could make me feel better about these fucked up thoughts.
Chapter 39
The first time I entered the Taithan throne room, I erupted into an explosion of fire and wind behind the very doors I now stood before. I’d shattered windows and incinerated guards. I’d heard the voice of Katia, Keeper of the Benevolent Saints, speaking to me and me alone. Hours later I’d marched into the same hall, dressed in a wedding gown, holding a bouquet of fire. Then chaos ensued when an arrow landed in Kauvras’ shoulder and the first domino of my command fell into place.
We stood in the antechamber outside the throne room, the members of my court spread protectively in front me. Nell and Whit stood side by side ready to lead us through the doors, their hands on the hilts of the swords they’d been given by one of the Taithan blacksmiths. The blacksmith had outfitted the court in armor so dark it swallowed all the light. He’d even managed to pry the Cabillian crest from their breastplates. There hadn’t been time for the blacksmith to forge a new crest, but the message was clear: Kauvras was no longer in control.
Belin stood next to Miles just before me, their hands also on the hilts of their swords, their faces chiseled with formality. The Myrin brothers standing side by side… They were a sight, a formidable force, intimidation pulsing through the air around them. They radiated authority, strength,death.
I exhaled the weakness that remained within me, hidden in the fractures of my soul, and inhaled power. I was fire. I was wind. I was the storm. I was the Daughter of Benevolence and Blood.
I made sure none of the guards could hear me when I spoke to my court. “Nothing about Castemont’s true identity. I want to get a read on the Rebel King first.” My court nodded in understanding, their faces hard set and ready.
Kauvras’ echoey voice sounded from inside the throne room. “Bring the lion out.”
The guards reached to open the doors, but I pulled my hands back, willing the wind to sweep the doors open as if a hurricane had suddenly blown in. The guards jumped back as the doors crashed against the stone wall, the sound echoing through the antechamber like a fanfare.
Kauvras’ eyes went wild at the spectacle as I was led in by my court. Nell’s voice cut through the echoes of footsteps. “Presenting the One True Queen of Astran, Petra, Blood of Old Creed, Daughter of Benevolence and Blood.”
I kept my shoulders back, letting the power of the titles propel me forward as we neared the Rebel King, perched on his throne of carved stone. Belin’s movements were stiff as he stood before his father, but Kauvras’ eyes looked past him, locking on me.
Chin high and heart pounding, I beheld the Rebel King.
“My beautiful wife,” the man said giddily as his stare roved my body.
“If I remember correctly, there was no kiss to seal the union.” I tried to stand a little taller. “I’m nobody’s wife.”
He sat back leisurely, amusement on his face as he regarded my court, his eyes catching on Belin. “And my son,” he said, his voice going softer. “Giving up your own throne so easily to serve another?” I waited for him to notice the resemblance between the brothers, but if he saw it, he made no mention.
Belin’s shoulders squared and Miles matched the movement, the two of them an impenetrable wall of muscle and grit. “I’d gladly give up any throne to serve my Queen.” Heat flashed through me at his words, my stomach tensing and knees locking.No, Petra.
